Infinity Street
by IrisCandy
Summary: (Takes place during and after episode 8x12, 'Zugzwang'. Spoilers for this episode ahead. Title based on a song from this episode called 'Infinity Street' by Richard Walters.) Ever since it happened, Spencer Reid found it hard to breathe. He found it hard to see straight, to eat, or read. He couldn't enjoy anything ever again. Not even his team's words could make up for her death.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello Criminal Minds fans! :) This takes place right at the end and after episode 8x12, 'Zugzwang'. Spoilers for the end of the episode. I just wrote a quick introduction chapter for you, and the rest of the story will be the aftermath of this scene. Please review to let me know if I should continue! Beware. Lots of Reid!whump up ahead. **

* * *

"Thomas Merton," Maeve said softly, her voice shaking with tears and fear.

"Who's Thomas Merton?" Diane asked, her gun trembling in her hands. She sounded insane with anger and confusion.

With every wave of Diane's gun, Spencer Reid felt his heart drop in to his stomach, just a little more. The pain from the gunshot wound in his arm helped him stay calm and focused, but it was nearly impossible as the woman he loved shook and cried with a gun pressed to her head.

"He knows," Maeve said. "He knows..."

"Who's Thomas Merton?" Diane asked again, jerking the gun as if to remind everyone that it was still there. "Who is he?!"

Suddenly, Maeve's face morphed in to one of a brave, determined woman as she spoke the words; "He's the one thing you can never take from us."

Reid almost smiled at Maeve's courage, but he couldn't. He just couldn't, because she was still in terrible danger and Reid stood there, helpless, knowing that his team stood behind him and could do nothing but stand and watch the scene unfold with him.

"No." Diane spoke firmly, her teeth gritted, one arm still holding Maeve against her. And she removed the gun from Maeve's head. For one, beautiful split second, Reid thought she would surrender and he could finally hug Maeve and _really_ see her in the flesh.

But she moved the gun upwards towards her own skull. And Reid knew what would happen before it even did and with all his strength he yelled;

"_WAIT!" _

There was a bang.

Spencer Reid had heard the sound of gunfire many times before in his line of duty, but never this loud. Never so painfully loud and terrifying. Never so unreal.

The world swam around him as he saw the blood seep from Diane's head, and he didn't want to look, to know who lay down next to her. That wasn't Maeve. It couldn't be Maeve.

Not her. But his eyes forced themselves to look. To watch the crimson slowly make its way down her temple and pool on to the floor.

He fell to his knees as he wasn't able to stand anymore. He could hardly breathe as he felt the tears come from his eyes and he sobbed for the woman he'd only just met, yet he knew her like the back of his hand. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to die, to take her place on the bloody floor.

_Anything. Anything but this. _

His hands trembled. He cried until it was painful to do so anymore. He vaguely heard his team members come up behind him. He didn't feel them help him to his feet. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Some small part of him believed that she was still alive. That she would come back to life and smile and quote Thomas Merton and be perfectly okay.

But Reid was too intelligent. Too caught up with facts and statistics that he knew she was long gone and that the pain in his heart right now would go away. It would.

But it didn't feel possible.

And he deserved it.

_Please. Please just kill me instead. _He begged to anyone who would listen.

_Not her. _

_Please not her. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I will definitely be continuing this story. Enjoy this next chapter :) (REID! MY POOR MUFFIN!)**

* * *

Spencer still sat on the ground next to her body. Despite his team mates' countless attempts to pull him to his feet, he still sat. He couldn't just leave her lying there, waiting for some strangers to pack her in to a body bag like a piece of luggage.

As the ringing in his ears wore off slightly, he started to become aware of the blood that trickled down his arm. The throbbing pain in his wounded shoulder became more intense as he tried to pull himself back to reality - however painful reality was.

"Spencer? We need to go now, Spencer," said a soft voice in his ear. Reid felt her crouch down beside him. Her voice affected him like an electrical charge, clearing some of the fuzz from his brain, and for the first time in what seemed like hours, Reid pulled his eyes away from Maeve.

Alex Blake had tear tracks on her cheeks, gleaming in the dim light of the warehouse. Spencer Reid knew she was strong and selfless. She was like a big sister to him, and through everything that weighed his heart down in that moment, he felt a pang of gratitude for her comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked her in the eyes and she rewarded him with a small smile. Spencer could vaguely recall the older agent trying to get his attention several times before then. She looked relieved to have finally reached him.

"Come on," she said gently as she got up from the sticky floor. She reached out a hand for him, and it took every ounce of Spencer's free will to grab on to it without looking back.

* * *

Dr Reid sat at the back of an ambulance, his legs hanging over the edge as a paramedic worked on the bloody shoulder. It wasn't too gruesome, as it was only a flesh wound with no bullet to be found.

Blake sat with him, holding his hand as if to keep him from feeling the pain of the stitches, but Reid hardly felt a thing. The poke of a silly little needle did nothing compared to the deep crater of guilt and horrible, horrible pain that became ever larger in his heart. He sat still, silent, staring at the siren of a police car changing rhythmically from red to blue. Red. Blue. Red.

He tried to keep himself from breaking down. He thought of numbers, physics, equations, statistics...anything to keep his mind off the Coroner as he rolled two bodies out in to the street, but it seemed he was having trouble remembering how to think. 698+768. Maeve. 6+896. Maeve. 2+5. Maeve. 1+2. Maeve. Maeve. Maeve. Mae-

He squeezed his eyes shut hard enough to create involuntary tears. He felt Blake's hand squeeze his, but it was hard to feel when your limbs were numb.

The paramedic finished him up and said something along the lines of "no heavy lifting" before leaving Reid alone with Blake. She removed her hand and asked;

"Are you alright?" Blake asked. She winced a little, knowing it was a stupid question. Spencer knew she meant well, but he couldn't quite appreciate her concern. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to cause more trouble for anyone ever again.

"Yeah," he lied, having trouble speaking with the lump in his throat. He got up, sniffed and ran a hand through his long, dishevelled hair. "Yeah, I think I just need to go home. I'll take the bus or"-

"Hey, kid," the familiar voice of Derek Morgan reached his ear. The larger agent strode towards him, his hands in his pockets. His eyebrows were knit together in his _worried big brother_ look, and Reid prepared himself for more questions. When Morgan reached him, he squeezed his uninjured bicep in a friendly, comforting sort of way as he usually did when he spoke to the young doctor. "How you holding up? You're not taking the bus by the way."

"It's okay, Morgan," he started, but Derek shook his head so pointedly, it killed the rest of Reid's sentence.

"No way. You can ride with me and JJ."

Reid lost the will to argue. The amount of adrenaline that had rushed through his veins mere hours before had dropped quickly and drastically, leaving him exhausted and practically swaying on his feet.

"Come on, kid. Let's get out of here." Derek's face morphed in to a sour expression as he spoke. Reid could tell that the man wanted to punch something, to avenge the death of his best friend's love. Unlike Reid, Morgan expressed his anger in violence.

Reid wished he wouldn't. He didn't deserve anything from any of the loyal friends and colleagues that surrounded him. More than anything, he wanted to get away from all of them.

Just then, he caught sight of the bodies again. As they were being rolled up the ramp of a truck, Reid could tell which one was her. She was exactly two thirds of an inch taller than Diane. He felt bile rise in his throat as he watched, the blood leaving his face. He gripped the side of the ambulance as the memory of her death came back to him.

He watched her falling, over and over again in his head. He could see it more clearly now, every detail being analysed by the damn computer in his head.

_"No." Diane spoke firmly, her teeth gritted, one arm still holding Maeve against her._

"_WAIT!" _

"Reid, hey. _Reid._" Morgan's voice pulled him from his morose thoughts. Reid focused his eyes on Morgan's darker ones. He still stood, leaning against the ambulance as Morgan put his hand on his shoulder to steady him. "It's okay, Reid. Let's just get you out of here, okay?"

Reid gave one swift nod, though his heart pounded and it was getting harder to breathe. Morgan returned the nod and led the young agent to an FBI van where JJ waited in the passenger seat. She looked almost how Spencer felt; her eyes sat wide and unbelieving in a pale face. She had always been a good friend to him, and Spencer knew that she was one of the team members who probably understood best how he was feeling. After all, she had thought that her husband was dead for an amount of time during the bank robbery, when he was shot down in a sudden rain of bullets.

Reid didn't much appreciate having to sit in the back being eyed by Morgan in the mirror, but it really was better than the bus.

If he took the bus this early in the morning, alone and unsupervised, he didn't know what he would do.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride in the FBI vehicle was quiet, yet difficult. Morgan tried to keep all of his concentration on safely driving the car, but the young agent in the backseat was hard to ignore. In the rear view mirror, he could see Reid, wide-eyed and staring - yet not really seeing - out the window.

As he drove, Morgan's mind wandered back to the moment when it happened.

_Even from behind, Morgan could see that Reid was terrified. The kid had never had anyone to really love, never mind a relationship. Morgan tried to point his gun towards Diane. Maybe, just maybe, he could hit her and leave Maeve unscathed. _

_But Diane had a different idea. "No." Diane moved the gun from Maeve's head, slowly, and towards her own. It all happened in heart-crushing slow motion from that moment on. _

_Morgan watched, frozen, as Reid yelled "WAIT!" _

He was brought back to his senses by a honk. He was stopped at a green light. He threw a hand out the window as an apology to the driver behind him, and continued on his way. Another glance in the rear view told him that Reid hadn't noticed anything.

He opened his mouth to reassure the kid, or anything to make sure he didn't feel alone, but he knew that nothing he could say would make a difference.

Morgan glanced towards JJ in the passenger seat. She looked back at him with a sad, empathising smile, as if she understood what was going through Derek's mind just then.

Out of nowhere, a red, pulsing anger flooded through him. The same word appeared in his mind over and over; _Why?_

Why does something like this happen to good people? Every case they work, all the crap they see, and it never happens to the scumbags of this world. Good, innocent people like Spencer Reid get their loved ones shot down right in front of them. Young, loving, goofy, clueless Spencer Reid.

As he looked back at Reid in the back seat once more, pale and defeated, Morgan wondered if maybe the kid would pick up the drugs again. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

He wouldn't. Would he? He'd learned his lesson, and that was years ago.

Yet, somehow, Morgan still felt worried. Losing a loved one was worse than any torture Tobias Hankel could inflict.

He pulled in to the parking lot of Reid's apartment building, reluctant to let him be alone. In Morgan's head, Reid was always a kid who needed protection. But, now? When the love of his life was murdered right in front of him only mere hours before? Every cell in Morgan's body screamed in protest of letting him be alone.

Morgan felt a hand on his arm and looked towards JJ. She nodded, and Morgan nodded back. Reid mumbled a thank you and climbed out of the car, but JJ got out after him. Through the windows, Morgan could hear Reid's protests as JJ offered to walk him to his apartment room, but JJ wouldn't take no for an answer.

* * *

"C'mon, Spence," said JJ, placing a hand on his back.

Reid offered nothing in return - just the same haunting look on his face. JJ usually wondered what went on in the young genius' head, but at that moment, she knew.

When Will was shot, and she was left to wonder if he was even alive, JJ had a movie playing in her head. The same awful moment over and over again like a broken record.

But Spence knew that she was dead - all hope was gone. And that must have been 3 thousand times worse.

They entered the elevator and JJ was glad to find it empty. She glanced at Spencer as the doors closed. The sight of him scared her, and she tried to keep a brave face on. One of his hands tapped violently against his thigh and he did nothing but stare at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them once more. JJ wondered if he even realized she was there with him. She grabbed his hand, reassuring.

He jumped a little at the touch, but his whole body seemed to relax a little when he saw her face. His eyes were wide as orbs and he swallowed convulsively. His hand was frigid and shaking, despite the warm air outside.

JJ bit the inside of her cheek as the doors opened once more. She became overwhelmed by the sudden urge to go with him, to stay with him for as long as he needed.

No, he can't be alone right now. He can't.

"Thanks, JJ. I'll...I'll see you," said Reid as he stepped out of the elevator, still looking at the floor.

"Spence, wait," JJ started, but she was cut off by the doors closing.

And whatever horrible thing Spencer Reid was about to go through, alone, was left only to JJ's imagination.

* * *

He dropped his keys twice before finally fitting them in to the key hole. He turned the key violently, frustrated by the shaking in his hands.

He pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind him before pressing his back against it and sliding down towards the floor.

It hurt. Not in a metaphorical sense or an exaggeration. It really, physically hurt.

But, no. That wasn't right. Because how can such a small word describe the horrid thing clawing through his chest and screaming? The knife in his throat and his inability to breathe?

Last time he sat in his home, he thought only of her. Of her voice, and how good it would be to finally see her. How she was the only person who would ever say _love you_, at the end of a conversation and mean it. How she sounded happy when he spoke to her and reassured when he told her it would all be okay.

And of course, it wasn't. Because nothing he said was ever reliable unless it came from a textbook or his mind's Wikipedia. He said it would be okay, that her stalker wouldn't touch a hair on her head.

And it was that very thing that was her end.

Such a small pointless word like _hurt _couldn't describe any of it. No possible word in any of the 6,500 languages could describe her, or how it felt to lose her.

Reid sat against the door and forgot to breathe. He didn't register what he was seeing around him as his vision darkened around the edges.

He told himself; _tomorrow I'll walk to a pay phone. I'll dial. And I'll wait till it rings._

And then the truth came back to him and another pain shot through his stomach.

And this continued for hours. He didn't move. Didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Just thought of her, and her voice.

But he had forgotten what her voice sounded like. It was just a dwindling buzz in the back of his mind and it moved farther away as he reached for it.

So he sat there. He thought of that fading voice. And he thought about how he would never, ever hear it again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your sweet reviews! I would never have become a better writer without you guys. Here's another chapter for all of you, I hope it doesn't disappoint!**

* * *

It was late. Really late. But Penelope Garcia didn't need caffeine to keep her awake as she knew that every single one of her babies were out there fighting for the greater good.

She prayed until she couldn't pray anymore, hoping that Maeve would be okay. Most of all, she hoped Reid would be okay. Garcia had never seen the young genius in love with anyone at all, but she had seen his outburst in the boardroom and knew that he would do absolutely anything to save this woman.

That's what scared her the most. As intelligent as Reid may be, he was still absolutely reckless when he set his mind to something.

She had left her small computer room to sit in the main room, knowing that she wouldn't be able to work under so much distress. She sat on the couch, her elbows on her knees and her hands pressed to her mouth, still praying silently. It was deathly quiet in the BAU office.

Penelope never liked quiet.

Her heart skipped a beat when she finally heard the familiar ding of an elevator. She jumped to her feet and fast-walked to the closest one.

At the sight of the three people who walked out, Garcia's eyes widened. Blake, who had tear tracks running down her greyish face. Rossi, who's face sagged more than Garcia thought possible. Lastly, there was Hotch, whose face was stonier than usual with two lines between his brow. He almost looked as if he were trying his hardest to mask the true emotion he felt inside.

"What? What is it?" Garcia asked as she followed them in to the main room. None of them answered at first, but finally, Blake stopped and turned around to look at her.

Blake put a comforting hand on Garcia's shoulder. Garcia felt her mouth hanging open and her eyes widened even further as Blake just stared at her solemnly.

"Who?" Garcia croaked, her heart pounding.

Blake squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds before responding. "Maeve."

Penelope shrugged off Blake's hand on her shoulder and stepped back, placing both hands over her mouth. She felt sick as tears started to pool in her eyes.

"No," she whispered, muffled through her hands.

Blake's mouth was squeezed in a tight line. She bowed her head and Garcia still stood, staring at her. Incredulous. Disbelieving. She hoped that it was some sick prank her team was playing.

But no, they wouldn't do that. They couldn't do that to her.

Her thoughts wandered only to Reid and how he must've been feeling. The incredible, crippling grief that he must've been feeling. A question pounded in Garcia's mind. An awful, awful question.

"Did he...did he see it?" Her voice broke on the last word. With difficulty, she tried to rephrase the impossible question. "Did Reid see it happen?"

Blake looked up at the shaking Garcia and gave her one, short nod. But it was all she needed to realize the true horror of the situation.

The only person that Reid fought so hard to save and she was taken from him. Blake had left Garcia to be with the others, and Garcia stood alone and speechless by the elevators. The silence of the corridor had started to induce more tears, but before she could even begin to understand what was happening, Morgan and JJ stepped from the elevator.

There was no Reid in sight, but Garcia knew in her heart that it would be an awfully long time before she would ever see him again.

* * *

As Morgan stepped from the elevator, he saw a scene that made his heart break just a little more.

Garcia, alone in the corridor with her hands to her mouth, crying silently.

"Baby girl," Morgan said as he moved towards her and hugged her. She hugged back in a deathly tight grip. The gesture was so incredibly pitiful that Morgan almost wanted to cry himself.

But he didn't break easily, and he needed to stay strong for the woman that held on to him right then.

When they broke apart, Morgan looked down at Garcia and moved a stray strand of her hair from her forehead to her ear.

"Come on," Morgan said quietly.

He didn't need to elaborate as they walked towards the main room. Aside from Reid, the rest of the team needed each other more than they needed solitude.

Plus, Morgan had an itching concern that he needed desperately to share.

* * *

Alex Blake was having trouble concentrating on anything as she and five of her team members sat on various couches and chairs around the main room.

She had pushed Reid so hard to become closer with Maeve. As a result, the hurt he must've been feeling at that moment would be tremendously worse than it would have been without her help.

She helped kill a dead man walking.

Somewhere inside, she knew she wasn't responsible for any of it. But a stronger part of her felt that she was almost a mother, or a big sister to Spencer. He wasn't cut out for this much pain.

"He's a good kid. A strong kid. But...isn't anyone else here wondering if...I mean..." Derek's struggle for words brought Blake out of her stupor.

"We shouldn't be discussing that," Hotch said harshly, but he seemed to be concerned by the words.

"We all know about it, Hotch," Morgan retorted.

There was silence, and Blake saw this as an opportunity to speak up. "I'm sorry, what exactly are we talking about here?"

The rest of the team looked over at Blake and suddenly, they all looked at a loss for words.

"We could all get in serious trouble with the bureau if they were to find out that we were harboring this information," Hotch said after a while.

"We're family, Hotch," Garcia spoke up, her voice weak but insistent.

Hotch looked around the room and sighed. He looked just as stoic as usual, but he nodded once. Blake looked around at everyone, hoping for an explanation.

"Spence went through something about six years ago. Tobias Hankel was a serial killer we were profiling, and Reid was the one who found him," JJ explained as she sat next to Blake on the couch. "But Tobias got to him first. He ended up kidnapping and torturing Reid for two days, and once we finally saved him..."

"He got himself in to Dilaudid. The drug. He'd been on it for a while before he finally got help, but he let slip that he almost did it again last year when we lost one of our team members, Emily," Derek finished.

There was silence as Blake let this sink in. She was shocked to the core, but she could feel the fear deep inside her. Spencer Reid on drugs? It didn't make sense. Spencer tortured? Blake could have lived without that information for the rest of her life, but now that she knew, she felt more protective of Spencer than she ever had before. Before she could say anything, JJ jumped in.

"He wouldn't do it. He thought about it with Emily, but he didn't and he wouldn't. I just...I don't think he should be alone."

"He's a grown man, JJ, there's nothing we can do about that," Hotch explained, though his voice was softer than before.

Blake looked around at the team. Rossi was staring at the floor from his place against a wall, looking exhausted and devastated. JJ's hair was a bird's nest as she kept running her hands through it and sighing. Morgan had worry lines etched in to his forehead, standing over top of a sniffling Garcia who sat at Reid's desk. Hotch looked deep in thought as he stood by the coffee machines.

Blake felt as if the world was ending. When she had taken this job, she had never expected to look at her colleagues as family members. She had never expected to see Reid as a surrogate son, or to look at Garcia and JJ as her sisters or Rossi and Hotch as her old buddies.

And though she loved them all so very much, she wished it didn't have to be so hard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I know it's been forever since my last update, and I'm really sorry for that. I had a bad case of writers block. I know a lot of you have been asking if Reid will start drugs again, or if Emily Prentiss will pay him a visit. I promise, all these questions will be answered soon! But for now, here's a new chapter for you all. As always, I hope it meets your expectations.  
**

* * *

Reid had only just realized how hungry he was when the phone rang for the fifth time that afternoon. He ignored it, not caring who it was or what they wanted.

He was lying down on his couch, knowing that his body was exhausted, but his mind wasn't going to let him sleep just yet. He had drifted off once, but all that brought was a much more vivid memory of Maeve's death, and he woke up in a mess of sweat and tears.

At least he could finally acknowledge that she was indeed dead.

His stomach growled at him. Spencer knew it had been 15 hours since he last ate something. 13 hours since she died. No matter what awful thoughts ran through his head, he still functioned like a computer that couldn't be shut off.

After a long while of staring at the ceiling, he finally convinced himself to get something to eat. His refrigerator didn't have much variety, but the leftover pasta did just fine. It wasn't until it actually dropped down in to his stomach did he realize just how hungry he _really _was. Not that it made him feel any better.

The hurt that he had felt 13 hours before faded in to a dull ache, but now there was no pain at all. Now it was like a void had opened up inside his chest and it was trying to swallow up his insides. Spencer rarely ever used metaphors and similes, as he relied mostly on facts and statistics, but he felt no other way to describe the way he was feeling. It was, in all senses of the word, a void.

The thrill he had felt when Diane was removing the gun from Maeve's head.

The feeling that he had succeeded in talking her out of it, and she would be locked up for good.

The split second of anticipation he had felt when he thought he was finally going to be able to talk to Maeve in person.

The pang of realization that he was finally going to be loved by someone in a way he never thought he could be loved.

All of those feelings turned bitter in his stomach, and he wished he'd never felt them at all.

He had dealt with plenty of unsubs before, and he knew that the grief that people felt wouldn't take long to turn in to raging anger and a thirst for revenge. But a gawky guy like Spencer Reid was no danger to anyone when angry.

Except, perhaps, himself.

* * *

The problem with being a FBI agent was that your personal feelings rarely mattered when it came down to doing your job. This was all Aaron Hotchner could think about on his way to work after the sickening events of last night. He himself still had the state of mind to get back to work, but he worried about his team.

It was understandable that they were all shaken up, and Hotch couldn't expect them to snap out of it so soon, but he also couldn't jeopardize lives by working with a distracted team.

He knew he would need to help them out. And that meant being strong for everyone else, as he always is.

But beneath his stoic mask, he wasn't entirely heartless, and he felt great concern for his youngest team member. He couldn't shake off the conversation he had had with the rest of the team last night, and though he didn't want to think so little of Reid's strength, he also knew it was a great possibility that he would turn back to drugs.

And he couldn't let him back in to the bureau if he did.

The elevator dinged, snapping him out of his thoughts. The moment the doors opened, he could _feel_ the uncomfortable mood change of the place. He decided to go straight to the coffee machine, as he knew it would be one hell of a long day.

The first person he saw was Morgan. He already had a coffee in hand, and was sitting at his desk making no effort to hide what he was feeling. His face was practically a billboard screaming worry. Hotch had expected Morgan to be the one of the more composed teammates today, but then he realized that that was a stupid thing to think. Of course Morgan wouldn't be alright. Hotch had worked with him for years, and the whole time, Morgan had been the paradigm of a big brother to the kid.

Next he saw Blake, who may have been the newest member of the BAU, but who formed an incredible bond with Reid in only her first few days. The profiler side of Hotch came out as he watched her walk in to the main room. He wondered if maybe she once had a child or some kind of juvenile figure in her life. Her lips were pressed in to a tight line, but she attempted a sad smile and a nod when she saw Hotch.

It seemed Rossi and JJ had already arrived at the bureau. The two of them came down the catwalk by the boardroom. JJ had probably been prepping for today's case, and Rossi could have been helping her to take his mind off things. JJ, being a long time friend of Spencer Reid's, looked exhausted. Hotch wondered if maybe she hadn't slept. She ran a hand through her hair as she walked, and her usually spark was nowhere to be found today.

Just as Hotch was starting to wonder if Garcia might not even show up today, she came out from her office holding stacks of paper and a furry pink pen. She didn't look as colourful and groomed today, and her eyes told Hotch that she had been crying. If he should be worried about anyone's working abilities after an event like that, it would definitely be Garcia's.

Hotch finished stalling the inevitable, and poured himself a cup of coffee before turning to JJ expectantly.

She cleared her throat and nodded to Garcia. "Do you have the photos ready?"

"All here," she replied. Hotch could tell she was trying to be as eccentric as usual, but her eyes gave it away.

Not even a friendly hello was exchanged as they all made their way to the boardroom. Hotch realized that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Reid stood in his bathroom, leaning over the sink. It had been 37 hours since Maeve's death. Only moments before, he had had another nightmare. But it wasn't about Maeve.

No, this was Tobias Hankle coming back to haunt him.  
He dreamt only of his face, and he swore he could feel the liquid sliding through his veins as Tobias drugged him.

And it felt so...

No. He shook his head and gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white, all he could think about was how that liquid was absolute bliss compared to the pain.

Reid turned his head up to look at the bathroom cupboard where he had stashed the drug the last time he used it.

He never got rid of it.

No matter how smart Spencer Reid was, he wasn't smart enough to flush the remaining drugs, and though he wanted to kill himself for being so idiotic, some small part of him praised his past self.

Because some small part of him wanted so badly to open that cupboard.  
"No," he told himself. He said it orally this time, as if that would emphasize the point.  
Incredibly, he started laughing. He looked at his pale, dishevelled self in the mirror and started laughing in spite of everything.

He laughed because this was exactly what his schizophrenic mother did when she started to deteriorate. Talking to herself in mirrors.

He felt himself sway at the thought, and the laugh died in his throat as he stepped back to sit on the toilet seat instead. His hands started to shake, and he knew he couldn't do this anymore. What did it matter anyway?

He stood up and turned around, his whole body trembling with the anticipation of what he was about to do. He opened the cupboard and felt around the backboard for the opening. He tore at it, and it came loose in a spray of dust, revealing where he hid the two small bottles.

The sight made his heart drop. Reid never even thought he would be looking at them ever again, never mind feel the awful pull of temptation that he remembered so very well.

He grabbed them, and was surprised at how little hesitation he felt. He was going to do it. Just once, that was all.

The moment he began to prepare the needle, a knock at the door made him pause. Who would be here at this time? Surely all his team members were out in the field or at the BAU.

He'd decided to ignore it, but the knocker finally spoke, and it shocked Reid to a point where he almost forgot what he was about to do.

"Reid? Are you in there?"

It was the voice of Emily Prentiss.

* * *

Emily felt slightly awkward coming to Reid's place like this. She had been missing her team at the BAU more than she thought she would when she left, but the moment she decided to arrange a visit, Morgan had told her what happened.

She and Morgan still talked and called occasionally because just because she no longer worked with her team, didn't mean they weren't her family.

In the end, the news about Reid had worried her to the point of her ending up here, knocking on his door. She felt absolutely horrible knowing that this had happened to him. She never even thought about Reid loving someone, but she definitely didn't think of what would happen to him if he lost someone.

"Reid? Are you in there?" She called, hoping he would answer and give her some peace of mind.

She knocked twice more, and just as she was about to give up, she heard a commotion from inside. Moments later, Reid himself opened the door.

It took her a moment to take in his appearance. He obviously hadn't slept for quite some time, what with the purple circles under his eyes. As Emily understood it, his friend's death hadn't even happened a mere 48 hours ago. Suddenly, she felt stupid for coming there so shortly after her death.

But underneath the naked, devastating distress on his face, Emily saw a hint of happiness in his eyes at the sight of her.

"Hey," she whispered.

Reid opened and closed his mouth a couple times, as if searching for the right words. After a moment, he managed to squeeze out a single, soft spoken "Emily."

"I just..." Emily paused and decided that she wasn't really one for pretence. "I know now isn't exactly the best time," she started again, awkwardly, "but I needed to see you. Can I come in?"

At the last sentence, Reid's eyes widened a little in fear, which worried her. Prentiss wasn't in the BAU for no reason. She was a good profiler, and she could tell clear as day that he was hiding something.

"Uh-yeah. Yeah, sure," he said, swallowing violently and tucking his messy hair behind his ear.

Emily walked in to the small apartment, suddenly feeling like she was seeing something very rare and special. Spencer Reid's apartment. She'd always imagined the kid sleeping in a library or something. The thought made her smile as she looked around at the dimly lit room, piled with books and one solitary couch in the middle, facing a large curtained window.

As Reid shut the door behind her, she turned around to face him and skipped right down to it. "How are you, Reid?"

"I'm..." He started, but his voice cracked and faded, so he settled with looking down at the floor and shaking his head slowly.

There were few things that broke Emily Prentiss, but as she stood in a young - too young - genius's entry way watching him shake his head so morosely, her heart fell and shattered.

She just nodded in response. She didn't know quite what to say to him, and she realized she should have probably thought of that before coming there.

She noticed Reid's eyes kept darting nervously to a door that Emily could only guess was the bathroom. Her eyebrows furrowed instinctively.

"Is there...anything you want to talk about?" She asked softly.

Reid actually managed to give her a small, humourless smile as he leaned against the door."There isn't much to say."

Emily knew that it was wrong to mess with someone who was grieving, but the ominous sight of the bathroom door sent a bad feeling running through her body. So she moved towards it.

She watched as Reid's eyes flashed dangerously and he moved in her way. Afterwards, he looked as if he was cursing himself internally for being so completely obvious.

"Reid, what's in there?" Emily asked cautiously.

"It's nothing, Emily, seriously," he responded, too quick to be convincing.  
They stared at each other for a long while, Reid's eyes silently pleading with Emily's concerned ones.

But she had to see what was in there. For his own good.

She hoped to God it wasn't what she thought it was as she made her way - quicker this time - to the bathroom door and managed to get it open before Reid jumped in front of her once more. He pushed something from the counter in to the sink.

But he must've known his efforts were futile because he ran a hand through his hair and began to ramble.

"It's not... I wasn't going to. I mean I thought about it, but I always think about it and I wasn't...Emily, I wouldn't..."

But Emily had long since seen the two bottles and needle sitting in the sink.

Her heart began to race, and she looked up at him in horror. Her mind ran through flashbacks of how awful Reid had acted 6 years ago after his kidnapping, and when Emily discovered why. She knew instantly that what she saw in that sink was dilaudid, and she paled as she realized that her knock at the door was probably the only thing that stopped him.

"Reid..." she whispered. It dawned on her just how awful he must've been feeling right then. She backed away and looked up at him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, holding a shaking hand to his hairline.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." He muttered, shaking his head. He looked disgusted in himself, shocked at what Emily had just seen.

Emily could have cried at the sight of him. But she didn't. And she wouldn't, because Reid needed her.

Instead, she walked closer to him, just as he put his face in his hands and kept apologizing hysterically for no reason at all.

Or maybe there was a reason, and Emily just didn't know it yet.

Her phone felt heavy in her pocket. She knew she should inform another team member of what she had seen.

But for now, she put her arms around him and comforted him as best as a friend could in a time like this. She let him cry in to her shoulder, and suddenly, Emily realized that Spencer Reid might just be the thing that breaks her.


	7. Chapter 7

Prentiss had sat on the couch with Reid after the washroom incident. She still felt highly unsure about the whole situation. No matter how many times Reid reassured her that he wouldn't take the drugs, she couldn't bring herself to trust him.

And how could she live with herself if she left him there alone, with all the possibility of a relapse?

As she sat with him, they started having random conversations; Reminiscing about times at the BAU and how Emily's life was now that she moved.

But they both knew that they were fooling each other with shallow small talk. In truth, Emily was thinking of who she could call in an attempt to help Reid, and Reid had a horribly dark expression on his face and kept scratching at his arm. Emily was terrified, and her heart hurt more than she was used to at the sight of such a young guy with such a huge problem.

She found herself remembering what Reid had told her a couple years ago, about how schizophrenia is genetic. She didn't want to think about it, but she was curious as to if he'd started showing signs.

Watching a friend being murdered, battling a drug problem, being captured and tortured, poisoned with anthrax... Hell, the kid had been through more than most people do in a life time.

And he was 31 years old.

As they sat in silence on the small couch, Emily watched Reid's distant face as he stared at a book on the coffee table. She had made him laugh a few times, but she knew it was only for her benefit. His face was a shadow, and he was - for lack of a better word - broken. Completely and utterly broken. His eyes were dark and sad, his hair disheveled, and his posture lacking its usual Reidesque qualities.

And here she was, feeling hopeless and useless at his side.

Yet, suddenly, she knew who she should call.

"Hey," she said softly, placing her hand on his. He looked at her. He seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'm gonna go make a quick phone call, okay?"

He gave her a slow nod before turning back to the book.

Emily made her way out in to the hallway, her phone in hand, hoping to God that this was the right choice.

* * *

Hotch sat in his small office, hunched over paper work as he so often was. The rest of the team was out with the press giving out a profile, and Hotch figured they could cope without him. The amount paper work was unbelievable, even for him. He almost felt as if he was drowning in it, but he had no other choice than to grit his teeth and get to it.

When the phone rang, he couldn't decide if he was relieved that he could take a break, or frustrated at the interruption.

"SSA Hotchner."

"Hotch?" said the voice on the other line. It sounded uncertain. "It's Emily. Emily Prentiss."

Everyone who Hotch had come to know throughout the years knew that very few things ever made him break his composure. But hearing Emily's voice was such a pleasant surprise in his stressful day that he had to give a small smile.

"Emily. How are you? Is everything alright?" he asked. It was, after all, strange that she was calling at this time on a weekday.

"I'm...I'm good, Hotch, thanks," she said, though Hotch was unsure. She sounded unusually nervous.

As the shock of hearing Prentiss' voice wore off, Hotch went back to his usual monotone.

"Good," there was a pause until Aaron asked again, "is everything alright, Prentiss?"

Hotch could hear the woman sigh on the other end of the phone. It sounded as if she was about to drop a bomb. "No, actually. I didn't know who else to call."

There was another pause. He waited.

"I came to visit Reid. It was probably a stupid thing to do but...I'm glad I did. Hotch, I think he's going to relapse."

The agent didn't know how to react to the news. He had worried about this, but he was so certain that it wouldn't happen. Not after the young agent had gotten through Emily's..."death".

He felt his heart speed up just a bit, knowing that this could jeopardize everyone's jobs, but most of all, Reid's health.

Before he could respond, Prentiss spoke once more, obviously reacting to his silence.

"I'm sorry for calling you with this. But, I'm certain he was going to do it if I hadn't shown up. I saw the drugs and I just... I panicked."

Emily Prentiss was known for having a tough skin, so Hotch was mildly surprised at hearing the naked fear behind her voice.

"It's alright. You did the right thing."

"What are we going to do?"

Aaron was somewhat pleased in hearing the word _we_ instead of _you_. He was glad he didn't have to handle this alone as he usually did.

Of course, Agent Hotchner was experienced in having a loved one murdered. He had heard his ex-wife being shot to death over the phone, and feared the life of his child for several terrifying hours. He was certain that, apart from being SSA, this was the reason Emily called.

All at once, memories came flooding back to him.

How he had profiled his team in front of Strauss. _"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions, and at the moment his shield is under repair..." _

How he had given Reid gun lessons, and he had apologized for kicking Reid in front of an unsub. _"Hotch, I was a 12_-_year_-_old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kicklike a nine-year_-_old girl..."_

How terrified the older agent had been when Reid stepped foot on that derailed train, or how Hotch had thought he had gotten himself killed in the church explosion.

How only yesterday, he had heard gun shots from inside the warehouse and was haunted by the thought that he had finally done it – he had let his youngest agent die.

In those few quick seconds of watching his memories unfold, Hotch decided on all he needed to say to respond to Emily's question.

"We're going to help him."

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Every memory Hotch had was from actual episodes, so if you haven't seen them and would like to know what they're called, please just PM me. More Reid!whump to come! Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I want to apologize for my lack of updates. Truthfully, I've been really writer's blocked with this story (and still am), but the beautiful reviews I've gotten keep me motivated, so thank you. Enjoy!**

* * *

Throughout the week after his encounter with Emily, Reid's thoughts bounced from Maeve, to drugs, to Maeve and back again. His head spun repeatedly, and the longing for dilaudid became so strong, he felt physically ill.

Emily had stayed with him until midnight on her visit, and she made him feel so comfortable and calm that he agreed to let her take his drugs away from him.

And now he definitely regretted letting her walk out his front door.

When Reid wasn't focusing on his debilitating, pounding headache, his thoughts wandered to Maeve. Every time he thought of the brave, determined face she wore in her last moments of life, a pang ran through his chest as he realized once again that she's gone. It was a vicious cycle that he couldn't escape, and his hunger for drugs didn't help the situation.

He lay on his couch for days on end, staring at the ceiling and hugging the book that Maeve had given to him. Her hands had touched that book. He ran his fingers over her handwriting.

Despite his intelligence, Reid half expected that Maeve would somehow come back to life if he held on to the book.

It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon, 1 week and 2 days after Maeve's death when Reid couldn't take it anymore. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Reid?" said Hotch. He didn't sound surprised, but it was a rare thing to hear shock in the man's voice.

"I need to come back to work, Hotch," said Reid. He hated his pathetic tone of voice.

There was a pause and then, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm fine. Staying here isn't helping anything."

"Reid, you are no use here if"-

Deep down, Reid knew that Hotch wasn't trying to be offending, but with his pounding headache and shaking hands, Reid snapped.

"_No use?_ Hotch, ask me anything. My brain is working just as well as it always has. That's all you care about isn't it?"

Reid ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he waited for a response.

"You need to rest," Hotch deadpanned.

He was about to yell again, but he took a calming breath and closed his eyes. "I've had enough rest. I'm as ready to work as I'll ever be."

* * *

The sound of Reid's voice at the other end of the phone was so angry and foreign that Hotch knew he wasn't himself. Alongside grief, Reid would also be going through withdrawal since Hotch had instructed Prentiss to confiscate the drugs.

He knew he couldn't let Reid come back to work, and yet for some reason he said;

"Alright. Be here first thing in the morning."

And that was the end of his conversation with the young agent. He set down the phone and pondered what he had just said.

He didn't have a plan on how to help Reid, and yet he let an extremely disturbed man come back to work tomorrow with the full knowledge that he had a drug problem. He pinched the skin between his eyebrows and didn't look up again until he heard a knock at his office door.

It was JJ, carrying a case file.

"Hey, Hotch. So, I called the victim's sister and she's fine with us going over there so...are you alright?"

Hotch must have looked more distressed than he meant to let on. But JJ was always very good at detecting another's unhappiness. He looked up at her.

"I'm fine."

But the skeptical look on JJ's face told him that he wasn't going to get away with such a dismissive response. She came towards his desk and set the case file down.

"Look, Hotch," she began, then hesitated before continuing, "we all have lives, and we don't want to pry. But the team is concerned."

This caught Hotch's attention. "Concerned?"

JJ's eyes wandered around the office before she elaborated. "You've been a little off ever since Maeve, and we're just wondering if something else happened...if...?"

"What is it, JJ?"

"Do you know something about Reid that you aren't telling the rest of the team?" she said, quickly.

Hotch was almost going to yell at her for getting in to other people's business, but then he just sighed. He was too tired for cover up stories. After all, he and JJ had a bit of a bond after holding on to Emily's secret together, and it was hard for him to lie to her.

"He's not alright. And I just agreed to let him come back in to work tomorrow."

JJ's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes. And I have reason to believe that he's not exactly himself."

Hotch scolded himself internally as he saw the knowing look on JJ's face. He shouldn't be saying anything, and yet he needed to tell someone. Even for a man of his position, he didn't deem himself capable of making decisions that could change his youngest agent's life.

"Hotch, we can't keep this a secret forever," JJ said quietly, voicing Hotch's own thoughts.

"What else are we supposed to do? JJ, this information could put each one of our jobs in jeopardy, not to mention a life if we don't do the right thing with it."

JJ seemed to take this in with genuine fear on her face. "Do you even know if he started...if he started taking the drugs again? Maybe if he just stayed at home a little longer"-

"Emily believes that he would have if she hadn't caught him in time."

"Emily...?" JJ began, but then she shook her head. "Look, Hotch, maybe it would be good for him to come in to work. Maybe all he needs is to get his brain working again."

Hotch sighed and leaned back in his chair. He felt his stoic mask slipping away, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so open with someone on his team before. It made him feel simultaneously relieved and uneasy.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," he said before turning to look out his office window.

Hotch wasn't a selfish man. He would never wish anything horrible on his worst enemies. But as he watched the sky outside and felt the invisible weight on his shoulders, he wished, just this once, that that weight could belong to someone else.


	9. Chapter 9

The BAU - except for Hotch, who was in his office - was lounging around in various places around the main room when Reid walked through the elevators. It was only at this moment that JJ realized that she and Hotch probably should have told the rest of the team he was coming. When they noticed him, some looked pleasantly surprised, but most just plain confused.

Reid was dressed as he usually was, with a collared black shirt, a brown sweater vest, jacket and tie. His omnipresent bag was hung over his shoulder as well. This familiar attire could have deceived JJ, if she hadn't been such a good profiler. She saw in his dark eyes and the slight five o clock shadow on his face that he was not okay.

JJ knew Reid was impulsive, and that this decision was made on the pure need to distract himself than anything else. A part of her was glad he'd gotten away from...well, other things he could have used to distract himself. But another part of her was worried about how his behavior would affect the team, and Reid's ability to really do his job.

She didn't know what she would have said to Reid on the phone if she were Hotch.

Morgan was the first one to say something as Reid walked in to the room and towards his desk.

"Reid," he said happily, grinning as he got up from his spot on his desk near Garcia. He went over to Reid and put a hand on his shoulder. "How are you, man?"

Reid slung his bag over his chair and sat down. JJ watched him closely. He gave an obviously strained smile, but his voice sounded perfectly casual when he said, "Fine, thanks."

The rest of the team nodded and smiled, a little awkward. Garcia looked over to JJ, her brow crinkled, shaking her head slightly in a way that begged a silent question; _what's he doing here so soon?_

Morgan was still lingering near Reid's desk, wanting to ask questions but fearing the answer. JJ looked up at Blake who was leaning over the railing on the ramp near Hotch's office. She looked at Reid with her eyes wide and her mouth open just a little. JJ almost couldn't believe how quickly she had warmed up to the woman, and how quickly she had warmed up to Reid. She made no effort to hide her worry. Rossi stood behind JJ with his arms crossed. He frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. Judging by his expression, JJ knew that he doing some profiling of his own.

They didn't say much, but the whole team knew something was very wrong here. Soon enough, Hotch came out of his office and gave Reid a dry welcome that did not betray his emotions whatsoever. Then he announced that they were flying to Arizona.

JJ had a feeling it wouldn't be a very comfortable ride.

* * *

It was a four hour flight to Arizona, and after discussing the case as much as they could and being assigned their jobs, the team started to unwind on the chairs and play cards at the tables. The mood in the jet was never as cheery on the way to a crime scene as it was on the way back, but still the team found ways to occupy themselves. They knew that murder was never a good thing, obviously, but knowing that it was a poisoning seemed to make their case a lot less tense than if it were gruesome.

Reid, however, had taken the couch and was staring at the ceiling trying to fall asleep.

He had lost track of how much sleep he had lost. He'd hoped that maybe he would have better luck in the company of his team, and luckily, the soothing vibrations of the jet helped him greatly. He heard JJ give a small laugh from the other end of the jet, and the sound of coffee being poured in to a cup. Eventually, he did indeed drift off to sleep.

Of course, it wasn't an undisturbed slumber.

His dreams were the same as the memories he saw when he closed his eyes, only twisted in to something even more horrendous.

_This time, he wasn't looking at her face. He wasn't looking at a gun pressed to her head. He was looking down over her with a knife in his hands - a knife that he pressed against her throat. _

_Maeve whispered things in a haunting voice. Some things, he could not hear. Others turned his stomach to ice. "Do it, Spencer. Do it. It's your fault." _

_But he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to cut her throat and yet somehow, that's what he did. He did it and he watched her fall to the ground until she was nothing more than a pool of blood. _

_And then the dream reformed, and he held a knife to her throat once more. But this time his team watched him do it. This time, they spat at his feet in disgust. This time, they shouted things at him. _

_"Kill yourself, Spencer."_

_He couldn't tell who had said it, but he felt the words like acid on his skin. _

_And then he sat on a chair as a faceless man pressed liquid in to his vein. "I'll make it go away," he said, in Reid's voice._

_"Spencer, I'll make it go away." _

_"I'll make it go away, Reid." _

He sat up in a panic. He took an instinctive breath, but it caught in his throat and he coughed violently. Reid felt clammy and so cold, and suddenly knew that sleep was a bad, bad idea. He gasped again, hoping to get some air this time. His hand flew to his arm where a needle had been inserted one time too many and he gave it a hard squeeze.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" asked Morgan, alarmed. He dropped the deck of cards he was holding and moved over to sit beside Reid on the couch. Reid suddenly realized where he was and dropped his hand from his arm. He looked around himself.

JJ was looking at the hand that Reid had just dropped from his arm. She knew about his addiction so many years before, and just then, her blue eyes were wide and alarmed. Rossi was tense in his chair, like he was going to rush to Reid's side before Morgan had. His face looked aged with worry. Blake sat on the seat across from Reid and was leaning forward. He had an uncomfortable feeling that she was examining his behavior. Morgan was as brotherly as usual. He had tried to put a hand on Reid's shoulder, but Reid scooted back in panic, shaking his head.

And then there was Hotch. His boss. He was the one to let Reid come back in to the field, and now he was surely regretting that decision. His brow was furrowed as usual, but he too was concentrating on Reid's arm.

If Reid couldn't control himself, he'd be fired. If he couldn't pull himself together, they'd send him home in a worry for his sanity.

And Spencer Reid without the BAU was an idea that terrified him to his core. Spencer Reid without the BAU - without his family - would surely be his downfall.

And that, he could not - would not - afford.


End file.
